Runaway
Cowboy
Rodeo
#3.5
By: T.J. Kline
Releasing February 3rd, 2015
Avon Impulse
”You had your chance, and you threw it
away…“
Five
years ago, Jen woke up with a ring on her finger and her fiancé nowhere to be
found. She swore she’d gotten over the betrayal, but when Clay unexpectedly
hires on with the rodeo for a week, she finds herself torn between passion and
regret.
Clay
left intending never to see Jen again. He’s been running from his troubled past
for far too long, and it’s not a life he wants for her. But it’s hard to run
from the past when the past is your own family, and Clay finds himself thrown
back into the chaos he thought he’d finally left behind.
Will
the truth drive Jen away, or is there a second chance at happily ever after for
this runaway cowboy?
“In
that big of a hurry to kiss me?”
She
rolled her eyes. “It will be a cold day in hell
before I kiss you.”
Clay
lips curved upward. “Ah, but that was the bet. You kiss me. Not
the other way around.” He saw her pale as she realized he was right; he’d
chosen the words for the bet deliberately. He knew she’d been suspicious, but
she obviously hadn’t expected this.
Standing
up, he took a step toward her. “You sure you wouldn’t rather talk a little bit
more, maybe tell me what was bothering you earlier? You know, keep stalling?”
She
clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening, and he knew he’d hit the bull’s-eye. He
wasn’t certain whether the look in her eyes was desire or anger, but he felt
the sizzle down his back at the thought of finding out. It didn’t take much to
imagine how right it felt to kiss her, how she could make his blood boil with
need, make him want to lock them both in a room and throw away the key. As long
as he was with her, the rest of the world could be damned.
“Fine.”
She walked up to him, pulling her hat from her head, her hips swaying slightly
in the feminine way she had about her and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to
his cheek, bracing herself with a hand on his shoulder. “There, debt paid until
dinner.”
He
inhaled the sweet scent of her, like honey and sunshine in early summer. He
reached for her hand, his fingers winding around her wrist. “That wasn’t a kiss
and you know it.”
His
gaze bore into hers, making sure she knew exactly what he was doing. His arm
wound around her waist, pulling her against him, her curves molding against
every hard plane of him. He ducked his head toward her, stealing her breath,
his lips finding hers. He meant to tease her, to remind her of what they’d
shared—what they could again—but as soon as his mouth met hers, his
self-control disappeared. His hand slid up her spine, his fingers curling
against the back of her head as his tongue sought hers, branding her. Her
hands, braced between them only moments before, gripped at his shoulders,
silently pleading for more.
Clay’s
body answered her yearning with his own, the torment driving him mad. He wanted
her, here and now, on the grass at the edge of the water, in the lake. Hell,
he’d lie on the rocks as long as it meant she would continue touching him. His
entire body was aflame, as if the spark of desire he’d carried for her the last
five years had exploded into an inferno, consuming him. His hands couldn’t stop
moving, wanting to touch every inch of her, from her velvety smooth cheek to
the satiny skin of her waist under her shirt, where his thumbs ran along the
edge of her bra. His mouth moved to the hollow of her neck, dipping to taste
the arching column of her throat as her head fell back into his hand. His
entire body throbbed with need, aching to be surrounded by her.
Her
hands slipped under the sides of his shirt, her fingertips trailing over his
ribs, tickling him even as it made him groan with longing. She tugged at the
material, and he jerked it off, following with her shirt, throwing them to the
side. Jennifer’s fingers dug into the muscles of his back, pressing her breasts
against him. He could feel her nipples, hard even through her bra, against his
chest. Clay wanted to stop and take time to look at her, to see the curves that
hadn’t been there before, but he was too afraid she would remember who he was,
what he’d done, and leave him standing here, alone and broken. He needed her
and right now. With her in his arms, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever thought
leaving her was a good idea. Nothing had ever satisfied him the way loving her
had. It was a mistake to have left her when she offered him every part of
her—body and soul.
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